


Daredevil Hogwarts houses

by Miss_sabre



Category: Daredevil (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gryffindor, Harry Potter fusion fic, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3892960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_sabre/pseuds/Miss_sabre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Which houses would the Daredevil characters be in? Short vignettes exploring each character and their relationship to the larger Harry Potter 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daredevil Hogwarts houses

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my lovely betas, Tartanfics, and especially Maelace.

**Matt Murdock: Slytherin**

“But my dad was in Gryffindor, I want to be in Gryffindor.”

“But I see great ambition in you, you could do great things in Slytherin.”

“Slytherins are all evil,” Matt said stubbornly.

“That’s not true,” said the hat. Matt almost thought it sounded reproachful. “Slytherin can teach you how to use what you have to your best advantage. Slytherin can make what you thought were disadvantages into advantages.”

“Gryffindors are brave, Gryffindors aren’t…” Pathetic losers who couldn’t do anything without any help. He thought it with the familiar wash of self pity. He didn’t think it loud enough for the hat to hear. He hoped.

“Gryffindors dive in headlong into a situation, but you… You don’t need that. You need to stop, think, and listen. Slytherin can help you to help others…”

Matt was struck dumb for a second. The possibility, the opportunity to help people. Him? A blind boy from Hell’s Kitchen? “It can?” He whispered the words slowly, almost reverently. If he could do that… He would do _anything_ for that.

“SLYTHERIN,” The hat called out triumphantly.

**James Wesley: Slytherin**

“Loyal, true, helpful, caring… You would do very well in Hufflepuff, I think.”

James Wesley thought of the large, shy boy who’d sat next to him on the bus. He’d seemed reticent at first, and he had such a hard time getting his words out. But he was kind to James, when everyone else had turned their back on the skinny, gawky, glasses wearing nothing of a kid, the large shy boy had smiled up at him.  
And when some kid on the train, with a laugh and a cocky grin, had swung by their train compartment and made fun of him, that boy had looked down. But when the same kid had made fun of skinny, nothing James, the boy had stood up. Taken a step closer. Some presence had surrounded him like a cloak, and the other boy had backed up and left. That shy boy had stood up for James, and James was quite certain he needed someone to stand up for him.

The boy who’d struggled to speak, struggled to meet anyone’s eyes, but when he did speak…

James thought that this boy needed someone to help him get the words out more easily. When the boy looked back at James he’d seemed embarrassed by what he’d just done, but there was something else about him too. There was something there, some need that shook young James in a way he didn’t yet understand. James was captivated.

That boy had been sorted into Slytherin.

“No thank you,” he thought politely to the hat. No need to be rude to anyone, even a hat, if he didn’t have to. “I think I’d much prefer Slytherin.”

“Slytherin, hmmm?” The hat worked things out for a moment, and James felt a small frission of fear creep down his spine. Would the hat call out Hufflepuff anyway? 

Finally it said “Iron resolve, focus… Yes, I can see you doing well in Slytherin. But… are you sure about Hufflepuff?”

“Quite,” a relieved James thought back.

“SLYTHERIN!”

James hopped off the chair and ran straight to Wilson Fisk’s side.

**Wilson Fisk: Slytherin**

The boys in Slytherin soon learned not to mess with Wilson. This was a new place, and if there was one thing that he could say he learned from his father, it was that he could stand up for himself.

He looked an easy target, with his eyes downcast. He looked fat and stupid. It took a few quick scuffles outside the Slytherin common room to convince people that he wasn’t the easy target they thought he was.

That was how he learned to look people in the eye.

It wasn’t long after the scuffles that he realized something at Hogwarts was broken. People were hurting—houses were pit against each other needlessly, pointlessly. He saw the way other houses looked at him and his house and it made him flush hot with rage. He tried to vocalize that feeling to James one day after a particularly bad potions class. Gryffindors had sabotaged a Slytherin’s cauldron, and even the professor had laughed at the shame of the embarrassed Slytherin.

“There is something wrong here, a disease within this school,” he rumbled to James, who looked at him, thoughtful as always. “No one is immune, not even the teachers. It’s…” words failed him and he slammed his fist down on the low oak table in the Slytherin common room. The few people still awake looked up nervously, and Wilson lowered his voice with an effort of will. “Something has to be done. Slytherins are treated like criminals, Hufflepuffs are ignored, Ravenclaws are so far removed from everyone else that they might as well not be a part of this school, and Gryffindors… Gryffindors could get away with murder.” He paused, his breath coming hard. Wesley waited him out, and his stable presence made it easier for Wilson to get the words out. “Gryffindors are so busy pretending to be the heroes on a white horse, there’s no room for the rest of us.”

“Hmmm,” James slit his eyes and looked thoughtful. Wilson had learned to pay attention when James looked thoughtful. He leaned forward.

“What?”

“What if,” James started slowly, “What if the Gryffindors stopped being heroes?”

Wilson stared at him, and Wesley looked back at him with steady eyes. There was more there than trust, more than friendship. Something in Wilson clicked, and he sat up straighter.

He bared his teeth in a long, slow smile. “I have an idea.”

His father made him fight back, other Slytherins made him unafraid to stand proud, but James gave him something more important than any of those. James gave him his conviction.

**Karin Page: Gryffindor**

Karin spent her first and second year worrying that people would find out her secret. She spent the third year worrying about the blood purists. Something had been stirring underneath the surface of the school during her entire second year. Troubling rumors and secrets. The four houses began looking at each other with more suspicion, more fear. In her third year the attacks started.

She was careful almost all of the time, but no one had discovered her secret yet, and it was exhausting thinking about it all the time. And it wasn’t like she knew any of the kids who’d been sent to Madame Pomfrey from the attacks.

She had stayed out on the grounds past curfew. She’d been enjoying the balmy spring breeze and the clear, moonless sky. There were no outside forces pulling at her, no urges. She could just sit underneath a tree and read her transfiguration textbook. She had nodded off, and woken to the sounds of yelling. Instinctively she grabbed her wand and ran towards the sound, stopping short when she came upon the scene. She ducked behind a tree quickly, her heart pounding. Four older students in emerald robes so dark they seemed nearly black, with hoods pulled up over their heads at a standstill with two more students in black robes with tacked on blue hoods had their backs to Karin. “Blood purists,” one of the blue hooded students spat. “You expect me to work with them?”

“Like you’re much better,” one of the students in the green robes sneered.

“We’re here to make Hogwarts a better school, and we have the means to do it.”

“You wouldn’t be able to circulate your ‘little spells’ if we weren’t getting rid of some of the competition.”

“If it weren’t for us and the teachers—“

“Now, now.” It was a new voice, light and cultured. “We’re not here to fight. My employer asked us here to make a plan, and as soon as the others get here…” The new figure stepped out into Karin’s view. He seemed to be a fifth year Slytherin boy, although his robe was the ordinary plain black robe most students wore. The things they were talking about, it had to be madness! Blood purists in cahoots with other houses, in cahoots with other teachers? Whatever was going on it was way bigger than anything she had imagined. She shifted in her spot behind the tree to see the boy in the black robes better. If she could just see his face…

It was the wrong choice; he looked up and spotted her instantly.

“I think perhaps you both should earn your bread, and disappear that problem.” He raised his hand and pointed. Karin turned and ran, but she wasn’t fast enough for the six people in hooded robes behind her.

Karin Page was the next person sent to Madam Pomfrey’s.

**Foggy Nelson: Hufflepuff**

People had always thought Foggy was strange, so he thought maybe he knew how the boy felt. He bypassed the table where his housemates were sitting down and eating lunch and sat down decisively next to the boy in the dark glasses. “Hi,” he said enthusiastically. “Wow, the way you did that transfiguration in class! Can you teach me that?”

“Do I… Do I know you?” said the boy, turning his head in Foggy’s direction and staring sightlessly at him.

“Oh right! I’m Foggy,” Foggy held out his hand, and when the boy didn’t reach out to shake, Foggy withdrew it. “Right, sorry. I tried to shake hands with you, but you’re blind, so that wasn’t really very clear. You’re Matt, right?” 

“That’s right,” Matt graced Foggy with a smile so big it lit up his face. It was the first time Foggy had seen him smile. He felt a surge of protectiveness towards the boy almost immediately.

“Well, Matt, I’m in Hufflepuff, we have the same Transfiguration class, and I figure we should be partners for the teacup lesson next week.”

“You do?” Matt said it with raised eyebrows and a tentative, open smile. Foggy grinned back. He liked this boy already.

“With your transfiguration skills, and my winning personality, I think we could go far.”

“I think maybe we could,” Matt said, and he smiled again.

Foggy had heard things about Slytherins, but Matt didn’t seem cruel or vindictive or prejudiced. He was just a boy who had looked very lonely, and who had a wicked sense of humor when he felt comfortable enough with someone. The fact that he was blind had at first seemed like a huge obstacle to overcome, but eventually became as normal to Foggy as his hat and robes. Matt still walked around like normal, and he had spells that made it so he could read with his hands. Matt helped Foggy with Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and History of Magic. Foggy helped Matt with Charms, Herbology, and other people. Foggy stuck by his side even when some of Matt’s Slytherin housemates made Foggy uncomfortable.

In their third year, an older Slytherin boy approached Foggy during one of the rare times he and Matt weren’t together. It was a taller, skinny boy, with thin rimmed glasses and ears that stuck out. He should have looked sort of goofy, but something about his brisk, precise movements put Foggy on edge.

“Hello, Foggy Nelson,” said the boy.

“Hi,” Foggy said back. “Are you looking for Matt?”

“No no,” the boy assured him. “I’m looking for you.” He slipped onto the communal bench next to him, and Foggy shifted to make room for him with a growing sense of unease. “I believe you are the answer to my questions.”

“Questions?”

“Have you noticed some… suspicion around you and your friend?”

Foggy looked at the boy sharply. “You mean Matt?” The boy smiled in response, and Foggy knew that was a yes.

“I know many of your housemates have been wary of you.”

“And what do you know about Hufflepuff?” Foggy had had enough with this boy. Whatever it was about him, it put Foggy’s hackles up. “We’re loyal and true, we’re _friends._ ” Even as he said it he was flashing back to some of the weird comments his other friends had made about him and Slytherins. Even comments people had made about Slytherins in front of Matt. His sudden uncertainty must have shown on his face, because the boy leaned back in his seat and graced him with a small smile.

“I know friendship is important to Hufflepuffs. But which friend will you choose?” The boy stood up, and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Thank you so much for our very enlightening chat. That answers my questions very nicely,” he said, and stepped primly away from the table. Foggy stood up too.

“Whatever you’re up to, don’t. Just don’t. If you’re trying to get at him for some weird reason, you can’t go after him through me, you got it? I am his friend, and I will do whatever it takes to keep him happy and safe and… and…” He was so angry he wasn’t finding the right words, and the pitying smile that the other boy gave him made him swallow anything else he was about to say.

“Of course,” said the boy, and he left.

Worry filled the place where his anger had been. He had a sudden premonition, one that had nothing to do with being a wizard. There was something big going on, and he was afraid Matt was going to get caught up in it.

“Nothing will come between us,” Foggy muttered darkly to himself. “Not you, not anybody.”

**Vanessa Marianna: Ravenclaw**

Vanessa saw the boy with the intense gaze across the hall from her at dinner. He was sitting at the Slytherin table, but something about him seemed different. He wasn’t joking with the other Slytherins around him, he was looking thoughtfully, almost dreamily, around the great hall. She had a distaste for most Slytherins and their “blood purity” mantra, but something about this boy seemed different. She found herself wondering about him, looking around the great hall at meal times hoping to catch a glimpse of this strange, interesting boy.

It was unexpected when she ran into him in the hall of portraits one weekend afternoon. He was staring up at one of the stranger pieces of art (which in Hogwarts said a lot). It was a portrait that was always empty.

She stopped next to him, and felt him shift to accommodate her presence, but he didn’t look at her. “I always stop by this painting whenever I walk near here.,” she said after a moment. “What do you see?”

“I see loneliness,” he said after a moment. “A need for solitude. Someone who never wanted to be seen the way a portrait demands to be seen. Someone tired of the way the world always judges and consumes.”

Vanessa narrowed her eyes and gazed up at him, intrigued. “Most people just see an empty study.”

“I am not… most people,” he said.

“I can see that,” she said thoughtfully.

He finally turned and looked at her, and in his eyes she saw fire and drive. This boy, this Slytherin, was more insightful than all of the people in her house who prided themselves on intelligence. She saw strength, but also something sweet. Something that should be nurtured. She also saw a question.

She reached out and grabbed his hand in answer, and something in her heart turned over at the way his gaze flickered away, shy and endearingly timid. She smiled then, slow and languid, and stepped in closer.

**Claire Temple: Gryffindor**

Claire spent a lot of time watching the other Gryffindors with worry on her face. She didn’t consider herself to be the sort who rushed into things without thinking, not like the other people in Gryffindor. Oh, she felt Brave and True and all of that other stuff that the sorting hat sang about every year, she just didn’t think that she had to be dumb in order to be those other things.

It was her friends’ tendencies to rush into things that first made medical spells pique her interest. She started finding excuses to swing by the hospital wing and watch the way Madame Pomfrey did things around her second year. In her fourth year Madame Pomfrey finally threw up her hands in defeat and started teaching Claire whenever she swung by. It was the end of that year when the ”mudblood” attacks started, and Claire got to see first-hand what hate could do, even somewhere as magical as Hogwarts. She was muggleborn. With each attack she clenched her fists tighter and prayed.

Then something even more startling started happening; more attacks, but this time it wasn’t muggleborns.

“That was him,” said a trembling second year Ravenclaw boy, pointing at the Slytherin on the hospital bed. He had blood and bruises on his face. “He had me backed up in a corner, he was getting ready to cast a hex when… I didn’t even see where he came from.”

“See who?” said Madame Pomfrey, gentle but as matter-of-fact as always.

“I don’t know,” said the Ravenclaw, lowering his voice. “It was someone all in black, he disappeared as soon as he made sure I was okay.”

“Student vigilantes,” muttered Madame Pomfrey. “What is this school coming to?”

Claire wasn’t so sure she agreed. Anyone who stood up to these attacks was doing good in her book. She didn’t say that to Madame Pomfrey.

When she stumbled on the boy all in black, in a strange room full of sundry discarded things, she barely felt surprise. From the moment she’d heard about him she had known in her heart that she was going to help him in his cause. She rushed to his side without a second thought.

**Ben Urich: Gryffindor**

Ben Urich often felt that he should have tried harder to convince the sorting hat that he belonged in Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor. He just didn’t fit in, he thought. While other people around him partied at Quidditch victories (or birthdays, or history of magic quizzes that had gotten a B, or… the list went on), he kept his head down and studied. Some days he watched his mates party with a mixture of fondness and distance, on other days he headed to the library to get a little solitude.

He was escaping a party one day when he heard voices. Instinctively he stepped back behind a large suit of armor, and listened. “You dropped them again, pick them up,” a girl’s voice growled. Another voice, younger, whimpered. Ben thought he recognized the first voice. Slowly, so as not to give himself away, he peered around the suit of armor and got a little shock as he saw a sixth year Slytherin prefect had backed a third year Hufflepuff against a wall. The Hufflepuff girl was trying to pick up the books, but the prefect kept kicking them away. “Ten points from Hufflepuff,” she said with another shove.

Ben couldn’t just stand by and watch this. He leapt out from behind the armor and shouted, “Hey!”

The Slytherin and the Hufflepuff turned to look at him, the Slytherin stepping away instantly into a more neutral position.

“A Gryffindor,” she sneered. Her eyes flicked back and forth between Ben and the girl, and Ben could see it in her eyes the moment she decided she didn’t want to have to deal with two other people. She flicked her head towards the Hufflepuff and said gruffly, “Don’t be so clumsy next time,” and then with a haughty glare turned and left, her robes billowing behind her.

Ben helped the other girl up, but while he did that he was thinking. Two weeks later he circulated a pamphlet. “Prefects Given Too much Power?” the headline asked. Students from every house read it, and circulated it. Most people congratulated him. Prefects who passed him in the hall, even prefects in his own house, knocked forcefully into him wherever he went and Ben had to wonder whether it had been the smart thing to do.

After that, people would come to him sometimes with a story. He found he couldn’t turn off that part of him that looked for secrets wherever he went, and the pamphlets he published became a regular occurrence. Later still, when the blood purity attacks started… he wanted to stop reporting on it. He wished he could. He even tried to turn his back on it it, but…

He was in the deserted library one night when a strawberry blonde he’d seen in the common room, a girl a couple years younger than he was walked nervously up to him. “Ben, right?” she asked. He nodded, and she flicked her wand in a quick spell to make a bubble of silence around them. It was a complicated spell; Ben was impressed. “My name is Karin Page…”

Ben soon learned how much bravery he really needed, and how much bravery he really had. He stopped questioning whether he belonged in Gryffindor.


End file.
